


Making the Grade

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [39]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-23
Updated: 2005-01-23
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not another exam...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the Grade

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For Alex, my friend and beta.
> 
> Thanks to Ula for her excellent suggestions.
> 
> From [Flux](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1752728):  
>  _Quinn: "We can fire up the cappuccino maker and go all night."_  
>  _Ian: "And then we can mark essays."_

Quinn opened Ian's apartment door, and smiled at the sight that greeted him. Ian was nested amidst a blizzard of papers in the living room, white-out conditions clearly prevailing for a few feet around him, save for narrow pathways to adjacent rooms, and under Ian's mug, empty and forlorn at his side. And just when Quinn thought he'd come in from the snow.

Ian had already changed into his flannel pajamas for maximum comfort while working. He had his favorite fine-line, felt-tipped red pen in hand, and was wielding it with abandon. His glasses were on, and the tree lamps with their soft white glow spread their branches around him at the boundary of the drifts. The crease between Ian's eyebrows told Quinn he had been concentrating on his task for some time.

They'd taken both cars to work that day, since Quinn had given a tutorial session in the evening. He'd known that Ian would be grading, but was dismayed by the sheer volume of essays to be marked. Quinn's two classes would yield about a fourth of Ian's paper count.

Ian's final exams surrounded him, a total of 160 essays, 100 from his Intro Lit survey course, and 30 apiece from the Expo 101 classes. The scheduling committee had been hemmed in by holidays and snow days this time, and forced to cluster exams close together. Last semester, he'd had a week to do the same amount of work.

Ian looked up from his labors with a tired smile for Quinn. The big man displayed his agility, making his way to Ian without stepping on a page. "Hi, love," Ian said, as Quinn cleared a patch to sit down and kiss him, coat still on. Ian absently brushed chalk fingerprints off the hood, where Quinn had grabbed it after his tutorial.

Quinn began to rub Ian's shoulders, the material of the pajama shirt nubby under his fingertips. "How long have you been at it?"

"Since 3." Ian was grateful for Quinn's deft touches; his muscles were stiff and aching after hours in the same position.

Quinn looked at his watch, the same one Ian had given him during their Christmas in Williamsburg last year, and saw that it was almost 9 pm. "You could probably do with a break about now, lad."

"Okay, but only for a little while. I'll make more coffee." Ian stretched in preparation for rising.

Quinn's hand firmed on Ian's shoulder. "You'll do no such thing. Allow me." He pulled Ian to him, and just held him for a moment, pressing a kiss onto his forehead, then lifted him to his feet. Ian burrowed into Quinn's open jacket, enjoying the contrast between the inner and outer temperature. Maneuvering through the artificial snowstorm with ease, Quinn led a pliant Ian to the periphery, and installed him on the couch. He hung his coat on a peg by the door, then took Ian's empty mug to the sink and washed it.

Soon the burble of cappuccinos brewing filled the kitchen. Quinn brought two fresh mugs out to the living room, and sat with Ian on the sofa recliner. They sipped their coffee in silence for a satisfying moment. Quinn experienced an unexpected sensual thrill when Ian's pajama-clad leg brushed up against his slacks. There was something delicious about being fully dressed while one's lover looked ready for bed. Ian was warm from hours in the heated apartment, a pleasant contrast to the chill of the outdoors that still clung to Quinn. He was thawing fast, however.

"Better now, lad?" Quinn laced his cool fingers with Ian's and felt them warming too, mugs exiled to their other hands.

"Much," Ian said with a contented sigh.

"This little break of ours will recharge you for the rest of the night," Quinn said with the voice of experience. He saw Ian's nose emerging from the foam, a few bubbles decorating its tip, and couldn't resist leaning over to lap them up with his tongue.

Ian hummed appreciatively, and pulled Quinn down the scant inches to his lips. "There's more where that came from," he said, and opened his mouth so Quinn could get a proper taste.

Their kiss simmered for a few minutes without coming to a boil; the men wanted to finish at least one third of their work before the games began.

"Have you eaten?" Quinn asked.

"I heated up the leftover meatloaf. You?" Ian took a sip of froth.

Quinn said, "I had a hoagie at Oppo's."

"Started grading yet?" Ian asked.

"No. I've been waiting to join you."

"It always seems to go faster when you do," Ian said appreciatively.

Quinn asked, "How are the kids doing?"

"Better than last semester," Ian said, relief coloring his voice.

"That's not surprising," said Quinn, after another sip of coffee. "The spring sections are partly made up of students who failed in the autumn."

Ian chuckled. "We had our share of that at Ken State too."

They spent roughly half an hour on the couch talking about their day, then Quinn and Ian brought in the mosaic table and a chair from the dining nook so they could grade in the same room. Quinn got into his sweats, retrieved the relevant folders from his briefcase, and sat down to start marking his seminar essays. Ian rewarded him with a kiss promising more before venturing back into his nest of papers.

Quinn's style of working couldn't have been more different from Ian's snowy sprawl. His exams stood in neat stacks on the table, moving from one pile to the other with methodical grace. Quinn completed the questions in order: graded on the left, in progress in the middle, and unmarked on the right.

Occasionally, Ian or Quinn would look over at the other, sometimes at the same instant, which invariably made them smile. Grading together transformed what used to be one of the more lonely and unpleasant aspects of teaching into a kind of shared meditation. The scratching of Quinn's pen, the flutter of pages turning, the odd sigh of frustration: all made a congenial environment for working.

About an hour and a half into it, Quinn heard Ian mutter, "I feel like a tauntaun on Hoth," hemmed in as he was by his arctic paper floes.

Quinn chuckled. "You're much too handsome for that, my love."

Ian flushed with pleasure; he couldn't see it himself, but was certainly glad his lover thought so.

They resurfaced a few hours later, covered with ink smudges and needing to stretch. Quinn unfolded from the chair, and bent to unwrap his pretzel of a lad from his improbable position on the carpet, a virtuoso display of gymnastics and yoga Quinn would remember for later requests in the bedroom.

"How's it going?" Quinn asked.

Ian yawned. "Must've done over half of the Lit papers."

"Not bad," said Quinn, impressed by Ian's speed.

Ian yawned again, a real jaw-cracker, and Quinn said, "It's time for all good laddies to go to bed."

Glad that Ian was in his pajamas, Quinn made the executive decision to lead his exhausted lover to the closer bedroom, although it had only an inflatable mattress. "Get some rest, lad," Quinn crooned, as he eased Ian down onto the air bed, and covered him tenderly with the royal blue comforter.

"Yeah," Ian sighed, already half asleep.

A barely-there kiss to Ian's cheek, then Quinn quietly left the room. He returned to the living room, sat down amidst Ian's essays, and started to count the finished papers. To his relief, Ian had already done 58 of them, and had a couple of days to complete the rest. Quinn decided to let Ian sleep through the night, knowing that he had no obligations save grading the next day.

Last semester's exams had taught Quinn a lesson. He'd gone off to the king bed hours after Ian fell asleep in 'his' bedroom, so as not to awaken him. In the morning, Ian had been the picture of pouty exasperation, considering sleeping separately too high a price to pay for a grading blowout.

This time, Quinn ate some banana yogurt, watched a little T.V., then donned his own pajamas. He joined Ian on the air mattress, sliding his arms and legs into the curves meant for him. Ian kept sleeping, much to Quinn's satisfaction, though Ian automatically curled around his lover, naturally seeking a full-body embrace. Later, when they were rested, the men would enjoy a well-earned reward for another semester all but put to bed.


End file.
